


The Garden

by baileyrhapsody



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hints of Sibling Incest, Shhh they love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baileyrhapsody/pseuds/baileyrhapsody
Summary: Wynonna spirals in and out of control. Waverly is there to catch her despite how much Wynonna wishes she wasn't.Slight spoilers for Undo It





	The Garden

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of feelings from last week's episode. SHORT. A one off while I work on the next chapter of Whiskey Soaked and Reckless. A hint of something. I love these two kids.

It's over. 

Bulshar won. 

No, more than that. He beat her. They have nothing left.  _She_ has nothing left. Peacemaker is gone, along with her will to fight. Doc too. He leaves because of  _course_ he does. Claims he needs space, longs for wide, open fields. So he can breathe, so he can  _live._

Ironic, seeing that he's already dead. 

She supposes spending what feels like an eternity buried alive can do that to a person. 

At this point, Wynonna can't find it in her to care. Try being brutally murdered over and over again in some psychological torture fest by a cue-balled prick and then get back to her. She watches him go without a word.

Waverly is her only saving grace. A literal angel. Her baby sister refuses to give her space. She hovers, persistent, constant. A fixed presence. Waverly can't keep her hands off her and Wynonna sinks into it, desperate for warmth, for the light that conserves her sanity. 

There are moments, though, small, inconsequential, where Waverly  _is_  gone, never for too long. Usually off buying groceries or checking in with Nicole or helping Jeremy translate some text. That's when Wynonna is hit with this weight. This void. Like she's fading away, one piece at a time until all that is left is a husk, a shell of her former self. 

Who knew that emptiness could be so heavy?  

Alcohol doesn't help. She hasn't had a sip of it since she's been back. Her stomach turns at the prospect of losing herself again, even for a second. 

It's hard to tell what's real or not. 

These are the times between sleep and consciousness, where she'll bolt up, clutching at her head and chest, gasping for air. Waverly is always in bed next to her, arms winding around her frame, lips in her hair, shushing her, promising she's safe and that everything will be okay.  When the darkness gets to be too much, Waverly is there to chase it away with gentle, reverent touches. 

In those minutes of comfort, Wynonna can't fathom a life without her. Aches at the idea of being away from her. Is hit with this swell of longing so intense that when it washes over her, it's enough to drown out the white noise. 

Wynonna doesn't understand why Waverly is still here. Doesn't understand why she stays when it would be so much easier, better _, safer_  for her to run. To take Nicole and go live a normal life, white picket fence and all. Away from the madness, misery and death. 

Away from  _her._

This is Wynonna's curse. The Earp curse. Waverly has no stake in the land, other than a stake in her. Which shouldn't be enough but it is, somehow, for Waverly. 

Ridiculous.

Wynonna can't help but resent her sister. Not so much Waverly herself but the love that she invokes. The love that compels Wynonna to continue fighting, to keep going when all she wants to do is curl up in a ball and let the forest take her. 

Maybe she should.

Maybe she will.

**x**

"You're pushing me away."

It's a statement. There's no question to it. The only indication Wynonna hears her is the twitch of fingers along a clear glass filled with amber liquid. Waverly's brows furrow as her eyes sweep over her sisters still form. Notes the crinkle of Wynonna's nose and the slight purse of her lips. 

The bleak stare. 

Frustration stirs up in her. Frowning, Waverly drops her bags and shuts the door behind her. The light from the fireplace is bright. It's hard to see but Wynonna's silhouette casts a distinct shadow. 

Her eyes are still bleary from last night. Swollen, stained red from when she sobbed in Nicole's chest after Wynonna had kicked her out. Forced her out. Told her to leave and never come back. That the sight of her made her sick. That she wanted nothing to do with her.

Heartbreak, certified. 

Nicole's reaction was unmistakable. It takes Waverly pleading with her to stop Nicole from pushing it. Waverly is quick to remind Nicole that it's okay, that Wynonna is just hurting right now and she will deal with her sister's spiral herself. Always has. Always will. The moments tick by until Nicole calms enough to promise that she will let Waverly handle it.

_But remember, you're not alone. I love you, Waverly. I love Wynonna too. We all do._

It's sweet. Waverly adores her for it. But this is her burden. Her task to bear. Her choice. 

No, not choice. 

Loving Wynonna is not a choice. 

It's an intrinsic part of her. 

"You're  _trying_ to push me away," Waverly continues, quiet, somber as she bends her knee and presses into the couch, nails digging into the top of it as she stares at her sister.

Pale lips curl up into a nasty little smirk as Wynonna tilts her head back, "Gee, what gave me away? Was it the 'Leave me alone, Waverly,' that did it?" a callous laugh claws it's way from Wynonna's throat, "There's that genius brain again. Mama always did say you were the smart one," she finishes with an eyeroll and a sip of her drink. 

Waverly catches a whiff of it. Whiskey. Drinking again.    

There's not much left to break but a bit of Waverly's heart shatters. She swallows, stomach turning. The last time Wynonna was this mean, she was under Jolene's influence. It's as jarring now as it was then.

It hurts more knowing that there's no magical spell encouraging the cruel taunts. It's all Wynonna. All her big sister, who, deep down, Waverly  _knows_ stillloves her.

_You're my favorite person in the whole wide world, babygirl._

She closes her eyes as she calls forth the memory, using it to strengthen her resolve even as her fingers tremble from nerves, "It won't work," she keeps her voice steady and takes a breath, "You can't stop me from being here."

"Save the dramatics for when you're role-playing with gingerspice," Wynonna props an elbow up and rests her cheek against her knuckles, "I don't want to hear it."

"Tough luck," Waverly snaps, a scowl steadily forming on her features, "Not only will you hear it, you're going to  _listen_ as well." Wynonna snorts but doesn't respond. Waverly uses that as the go ahead and climbs onto the couch fully. Once situated, she starts a slow crawl over to her sister on hands and knees, settles in beside her. 

Waverly watches her intently, guarded as she takes her in, cataloging each aspect of her sister carefully. Wynonna's hair is wet, the curls damp and smelling faintly of smoke and lavender. There's a minor quiver to her jaw, like she's putting forth the effort to hold something in. It's so imperceptible that Waverly would've missed it had she not been paying attention but she is. It compels her to look closer. Only then does she notice the slight puffiness under Wynonna's eyelids.

And like that, she softens. Made tender. Easy. Wynonna does that to her. Always,  _always._  

Gingerly, allowing enough time to retreat, Waverly reaches over to brush a strand of Wynonna's hair behind her ear. Wynonna shivers at her touch, eyes closing. It makes Waverly ache, heart in a slow mend as she delicately strokes along her ear. 

Whether it's her who slips onto Wynonna's lap or Wynonna who pulls her on top of her, it doesn't matter. Wynonna places her cup down so she can palm her outer thigh and the top of her ass, tugging roughly, impatiently drawing Waverly closer. 

A relieved breath slips from her lips as she buries her fingers in Wynonna's hair, warmth spreading in chest as kisses are pressed into her neck. She nudges her nose against Wynonna's temple,  "Don't do that to me again," it's a muffled demand mixed with a plea and Waverly isn't even sure Wynonna hears her until she feels her sister shudder. Waverly moves back to cup Wynonna's cheeks and glare down at her. "I mean it, Wynonna. Never again."

Despondent blue eyes gaze up at her. Waverly waits for Wynonna to work through it, acknowledges that this is her process, that she's turning Waverly's words around in her head, lost in thought. She delicately brushes a thumb over her cheek.

Wynonna blinks, breaks eye contact. Waverly won't let her look down, holds her firm so that she can't escape. 

"Wynonna."

A sigh. Wynonna sniffs and nods, leans into her, "Sorry," she mumbles, turning her head to kiss Waverly's thumb, "I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I'm sorry, babygirl."

Her eyes narrow, searching, questioning. She wants to understand why Wynonna said what she did. What drove her to such extremes. There's so much she doesn't know. Can't grasp a full picture of what Wynonna went through when she was under Bulshar's influence. 

Only hints and pieces.

Waverly opts not to push. Maybe it's not intended for her to understand. Maybe she just isn't able to. Regardless, what matters is Wynonna is here, broken, but here. Pained, but here. 

It's not enough but Waverly takes it. 

Latches on to it and uses it as an anchor to keep them both adrift amidst the spiral.


End file.
